Who Saves the Hero? Book One
by Random Reader OO1
Summary: Another Reading at Hogwarts fic, with my own personal twist to it. Harry isn't mentally right, but no one has noticed, until a set of five books were discovered on the desk of Professor Umbridge. Can anyone save someone who doesn't think its needed?


Harry sighed quietly and ran his hand through his untamable jet black hair. His emerald eyes that usually glowed in what looked like green flames from behind his thin wired glasses now looked dull. He felt horrible, and if it wasn't because of the Dursley's training him to never take a sick day, he would have just stayed in bed with his curtains closed until the world stopped spinning. His eyes had dark circles under them, and looked sunken in, probably from the fact that he hadn't slept more than three hours in months.

Splashing his face with cool water helped wake him up, but also made him shiver. Today, he decided, was probably a day best spent asleep.

Carefully gathering all of his books together, before locking and shrinking his trunk, the fifteen year old was ready to face the day.

Well, almost. He wrapped his magic around his body in a powerful glamour, hiding his thin, exhausted form from anyone who cared to look. He knew he was slightly late for breakfast, but didn't really care, as he would just be going for appearances sake.

Harry walked out of Gryffindor tower and headed towards the great hall. His wand rested in his pocket, helping sooth his nerves as the whole great hall fell into silence the moment he walked in. Rolling his eyes, he sat down at the edge of the table. He had thought that after this long, people would be used to him coming in and out of Hogwarts.

"Hem hem." Someone from the teachers table cleared their throat and the students turned towards Professor Umbridge, who was looking smugger than usual with a stack of books placed in front of her. What did the old toad want now?

"Attention students and staff members," the whole great hall rolled their eyes as one, another educational degree most likely. "-today, we are graced by several important people, including the Minister of Magic himself. Classes will be canceled today due to the fact that there is a set of books that must be read this week. I, myself, have yet to be allowed to open them, but I am told that they will expose the lies of one of the students."

Harry's head dropped onto the table with a thunk, and he felt like his heart was suddenly frozen in ice.

Mummers broke out across the great hall as some of the students tried to figure out who was this unlucky, and others were shooting mixes between pitying the young hero, and wishing his death.

The doors to the great hall burst open, and Cornelius Fudge, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shackelbolt, and Amelia Bones all came in. Tonks and Moody were having a silent conversation. They all moved to the staff table and Minister Fudge waved his wand over the books.

"Shall we begin? The first book is called _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._

"I hate it when I'm right." Harry muttered to himself, keeping his head on the cool wood of the table.

"Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived"

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much._

Harry snorted quietly, and was unsurprised by the glares sent his way. Ever since Rita Skeeter started writing about him, the school basically started acting like second or fourth year all over again.

_They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense._

_Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache._

"What's a drill?" Asked one of the purebloods in Ravenclaw. The Muggle Studies teacher stood up randomly.

"Excuse me, but apparently there will be terms in this book that most purebloods and half-bloods will not understand. As such, I ask that you please write down the terms that you do not understand, and in our next class we will cover them. This way, we save time, as we still have a lot of reading to do." Professor Smolding sat back down, and wrote the word on a spare piece of parchment.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat with the same annoying noise, looking irritated at being interrupted.

_Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors._

_The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere._

"That sounds about right." Harry muttered to himself, encoring the glares sent his way.

_The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it._

Everyone sat up a little straighter and leaned forward. Harry just snorted.

"Their biggest secret? That would be me." He said clearly.

_They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters._

"Told you."

_Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister_

"Lily Evens had a sister?" some of the teachers gasped.

Severus Snape on the other hand snorted into his conveniently placed goblet. Lily just so happened to do the same.

_, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be._

"Is that another Muggle term? UnDursleyish?" another pureblood asked.

"Not as far as I know." Answered Dean Thomas, another fifth year boy in Harry's house.

_The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street._

_The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that._

Sadly, most of the great hall nodded in understanding. They didn't want to be around Potter either. The lazy good for nothing boy had done nothing but get people hurt and killed since he started here.

However, there were students, scattered around from all the houses that glared at their housemates. How stupid could they get?

Harry gave them a hand gesture, telling them to stay put, and they all started grumbling under their breaths.

_When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair._

"If this is how you were raised Potter, I can somewhat understand why your such an attention seeker." Professor Umbridge said with a look that made Harry feel like he was a slug. Rolling his eyes, he motioned for her to continue. It was going to take more than just a look to hurt him.

_None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window._

"Do the muggles notice anything?" Fred asked his twin brother in a mock whisper. George brought his hand to his chin in a thinking gesture.

"Well, Forge, if I had to guess, I would say that no, they don't."

_At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls._

"Even _my_ mother wouldn't have put up with that behavior." Draco Malfoy said from across the Great Hall. Those who had met Mrs. Malfoy had a feeling that even if he was young, he would have been in trouble.

Back with the Weasleys, Fred, George, Ron, and little Ginny all gave a mighty shudder. If they had done something like that, they wouldn't have been able to sit for a week.

_"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive._

"Wait." Professor Snape's voice rang out across the hall, "They actually encouraged this behavior Potter?"

Harry flushed slightly at the attention he was receiving.

"That is typical Dudley behavior, yes."

_It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map._

Harry looked up for the first time since the book had started, and gave the Transfiguration teacher a look. At the slight nod of her head, Harry settled back against the table. His heart was still racing, but as long as it skipped over his childhood, and went straight to Hogwarts, he would be alright. His carefully guarded secrets would stay just that. If he was wrong…

A shudder ran through his body, only noticed by a confused set of identical blue eyes. He was hiding something, and though the owners of the eyes normally loved mysteries, they had a feeling that this was one that they most likely didn't want to know.

_For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of?_

"Nothing?" Neville Longbottom's voice said from the Ravenclaw table where he was sitting next to his girl friend and when Harry gave a slight chuckle, he knew he had succeeded in making this at least somewhat easier on his friend.

_It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs._

"So," the twins grinned at each other, before turning to the head of their house, "You must have a horrible sense of direction, Professor McGonagall."

The said professor just shook her head in amusement at some of her lions. Professor Snape leaned towards her.

"Favoritism, dear Minerva?" he asked with a smooth voice. She blushed lightly, glared at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Severus."

_Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day._

_But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks._

"What's wrong with wearing cloaks?" asked little Simon Snives, a first year pure blood Slytherin. One of the other first years, Sabrina Goss whispered in his ear that Muggles didn't wear cloaks. Unknown to most of the other houses, Slytherin had the exact same amount of Muggleborns as everyone else; their Muggleborns just didn't make a big deal about it.

_Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together._

_Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him!_

_But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it._

_The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills._

"Has a bit of a one track mind doesn't he?" Luna Lovegood said, her voice as floating and light as always. Everyone in Harry's secret group smirked at each other, some even going as far as to laugh.

_Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; _

"Right as usual Gred."

"And you doubted me, dearest brother."

"My apologies. Never again shall I doubt your brain power." Fred said in an pompous voice.

"Thank you Forge."

"Except for on anything that has to do with charms or history, of course."

George reached over and smacked his twin over the head never noticing Professor Flitwick ducking under the table to chuckle. He could always tell the twins apart because Fred was unusually talented in charms, but George…

Well, George couldn't even do a simple levitation charm without it exploding.

_they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime._

_Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people._

"Rather likes to yell, doesn't he?" Mad- Eye Moody said with a slight smirk.

_He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more._

"Maybe we should put him and Mad-Eye in the same office and see who lives." Fred whispered. George, who was still pouting at his brother, accidentally let his eyes light up in mischief.

Fred made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat when he caught onto the fact that his brother wasn't embarrassed anymore.

_He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road_

Harry bolted up, and walked quickly to the head table. No way. He read the rest of the sentence, and shook his head in exasperation. That made more since. Harry walked back to his seat as Umbridge continued to read.

_to buy himself a bun from the bakers opposite._

_He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This__lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying._

_"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard –"_

All of the adult, stiffened, guessing what day this way, and suddenly becoming more and more depressed. Severus gripped the table until his fingers turned whiter than his usual pale skin.

One phrase was running through his mind, over and over again.

'_Oh, Lily, my Lily-Flower, why?'_

_" — yes, their son, Harry – "_

_Mr. Dursley stopped dead._

"Pity he didn't." A voice said from the back of the room. That was Harry Potter's voice, but he sounded disappointed that it wasn't true.

A single question roamed through the minds of all of the room. What secrets did Privet Drive hold?

_Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it._

"Good job Uncle Vernon." Harry said again, his voice emotionless, and his eyes still looked dull even from under his glamour. No, not dull, dead.

_He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid._

"When isn't he?" The twins snorted together. Harry chuckled darkly.

_Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry._

_Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold._

"Harry, dear," Fred started.

"Did they really"

"-not know your"

"-name?" They finished together as always.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I doubt they know it now, and I've been living with them for fourteen years."

That caught the attention of the adults. He had said that in such a causal tone, so uncaring almost, and even those who didn't like the boy had a feeling that he wasn't lying. And if that was true…

_There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if he'd had a sister like that…_

"Like yours in so much better." Harry said with another roll of his eyes.

Severus Snape narrowed his eyes and mentally checked off disrespectful on his list of All Things Potter.

If only he knew…

_but all the same, those people in cloaks…_

_He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door._

_"Sorry," he grunted,_

Harry stiffened at that. "He actually _knows_ that word?"

A few people laughed until they realized that he actually was in shock. That made the twins look at him sharply. Surely after all those years of living with him, Harry would have heard his uncle say that word before.

_as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell._

_It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!" And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle_

"How did he _fit?" _Harry asked, mentally envisioning his uncle, no one, and he meant absolutely no one could fit their arms around his whale of an uncle.

_and walked off._

_Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination._

Harry shook his head roughly. No, he didn't. In fact, imagination could get you killed in the Dursley House if your name was Harry Potter

_As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning._

_It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.  
_

Now the twins, and the others in Harry's secret group was sending her the same looks that the boy wonder himself had sent earlier. At a look, they knew that they would find out when the rest of the school did.

_"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly._

Minerva snorted at that, remembering the stupid muggle quite clearly. Albus started chuckling merrily, and Harry Potter snorted almost exactly like his teacher.

_The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look._

_Was this normal cat behavior,_

No, Harry thought smugly, but it _was_ normal Professor McGonagall behavior.

_Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife._

_Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word! ("Shan't!")._

_Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:_

_"__And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The news__reader allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"_

_"Well, Ted,"_

Tonks sat up a little straighter. She knew he father was once on the muggle news, and she knew that sense of humor. She would have to remember that muggles name and ask him about it when she got home. She took out a tiny piece of paper and wrote out _Jim McGuffin _on it, before stowing it in her paper, her hair changed from the bubblegum pink that it had been to an electric blue, and she changed her eyes from grey to pink, just for the fun of it.

_said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."_

"Diggle. Definitely Diggle."

_Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…_

_Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously._

_"Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"_

_As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister._

_"No," she said sharply. "Why?"_

_"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"_

_"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley._

_"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."_

"Potter!" Barked Snape, "What do they mean by that?" The whole room was looking insulted, but Harry was just sitting on in his seat, his back perfectly straight, and his head down.

"The Wizarding world in whole. Mum was a witch, so that's what they call anyone who has magic" He explained with a slight shrug and blush.

_Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"_

_"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly._

_"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"_

"Howard Potter? Harvey Potter? Harold Potter? Howard Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Yep, I prefer my own name. Harry is much better than any of the other names."

"If your Mother had her way, you would have been Everett Malcolm Potter." Professor McGonagall told him. Harry shuddered. Everett Potter? What a horrible name. Most of the room must have agreed, as they wrinkled their noses or shuddering themselves.

_"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."_

"Oh yes," Harry said with a roll of his eyes, "Much worse than torturing your child with the name Dudley."

_"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."_

_He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there._

_It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something._

_Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it._

_The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect them…_

_How very wrong he was._

"Ya, if only…"

_Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness._

"Does she ever?" Zach Smith asked with a sarcastic look on his face.

The Gryffindors all snickered to themselves. To tell, or not to tell?

Sometimes, when there was a party, and they were up past three, it wasn't uncommon for the usually uptight Professor to barge in, with her long peppered hair down from its usual bun, before spelling off the music, and setting a hex so that every student that wasn't in their dormitories before five minutes were up got dumped with freezing cold water in the morning, as well as what was like a muggle sprinkler going off after five minutes. The later this was, the worse the consequences were for them, but the Gryffindors took it with good humor.

_It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all._

_A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed._

"POP OUT OF THE GROUND! BUT THAT BREAKS THE LAWS OF MAGIC!" The Weasley twins shouted in unison, scandalized looks on their freckled faces. The rest of the great hall laughed, and they bowed, once again cheering up the slightly bored students. When would the book get good?

_Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore._

_Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome._

"Oh, I knew, I just didn't care." The said person said with his blue eyes twinkling. How could he not realize that? It wasn't like you couldn't just look around the neighborhood and realize it. Albus tisked once, before pulling out a lemon drop and plopping it in his mouth and sucking on the treat.

_He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."_

_He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop._

"Awesome." The twins said, before taking out a piece of parchment with identical looks of mischief on their faces.

_He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it._

_"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."_

At that, Harry's secret friends all sent out mischievous looks, muttering 'I told you so' 's around the room. The said professor blushed at the looks she was receiving.

"All day Minerva? Did you actually have nothing better to do than to just sit in a muggle neighborhood all day?"

Minerva hmphed and turned away from her smirking coworker, not seeing the look on his face that would have told her that he wasn't planning on forgetting this tiny tidbit of information any time soon.

_He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun._

_She looked distinctly ruffled._

_"How did you know it was me?" she asked._

_"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."_

_"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall._

_"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."_

Minerva shot Severus a look, and he nodded his head to her. She won this time.

_Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily._

_"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."_

Harry gave the room a smirk. He had guessed that before anyone else, and he was proud of the fact.

_"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."_

_"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."_

"I wonder who those rumors were about?" Fred said his voice seemingly professional, like he was a teacher, asking a question to a bunch of idiotic students.

George's hand shot up "I know, I know!"

Fred made a show of slowly turning to his brother, "You have a comment, Mr. Weasley?"

Most of the room snorted at that.

"Yes I do, Professor Weasley. The rumors were about young Mr. Potter."

That made the great hall burst into laughter. Some of the teachers, such as the transfiguration and potions professors snorted into a well placed napkin. Others, such as Hagrid and the charms professor had no such restrictions, and were roaring in laughter.

Literally in Hagrid's case.

_She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really__has__gone, Dumbledore?"_

_"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"_

"And so it begins." Ron Weasley said with a slight shake of his head, turning unintentionally towards his ex-best friend with a smile. As soon as he remembered what he was doing, he glared at him instead.

_"__A__what__?"_

_"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."_

"And will be for at least the next fourteen years." The staff muttered under their breaths.

_"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops._

"Minerva!" Albus said, with shock clear on his face, "there's always time for lemon drops!" he admonished the slightly red teacher from down the table."

Severus snickered quietly at the blush on her cheeks. That quickly turned into a choking noise as she transfigured his goblet into a white goat, before changing his hair to be gold and red.

"Thank you for the support Severus." She said with a straight face. He rolled his eyes.

"You changed my hair color again, didn't you?" He asked with a small sigh. She gave him an innocent look. "I guess that's fair since I changed your hair color when the book began."

The transfiguration professor jumped slightly and took a small clip out of her robe pocket, before transfiguring it into a small hair mirror. She examined her hair, and found that it was as it always was, before hearing a sight hissing noise. Harry glanced up, he had head a snake.

~foolisssssh humanssss. Too ssssstupid to underssssstand the greatnessssssss of the ssssserpents.~

Harry almost choked on his drink. A pompous snake. Well, he hadn't seen one of those in a while. He hissed out the counter charm for his head of houses' hair, and it was back to its usual state.

_"__As I say, even if You-Know-Who__has__gone —"_

_"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."_

Professor Umbridge stuttered over the name, looking sick as she had to say it, like the name was a curse word in their world or something.

"How are people scared of the **flight from death**?" Harry asked, annoyed. At the looks he got, he explained.

"First off, depending on the language, Voldemort can mean several different things. In French, it means the flight from death, in Parseltongue, it means Snake Man." He informed them with an amused look on his face.

_Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."_

_"__I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right,__Voldemort__, was frightened of."_

_"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."_

_"__Only because you're too — well —__noble__to use them."_

_"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my earmuffs."_

Everyone gagged and felt slightly disturbed.

_Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"_

_It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer._

'Please don't make her say it. I don't want to hear her say it.' Harry chanted to himself.

_"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — dead."_

Harry's back turned ridged and he fought with himself for control. There was no way he was breaking down in the middle of the great hall over something so stupid.

To his surprise, the twins got up from their seats, glancing around the room to tell the others to stay where they were, and sat down next to him. Fred wrapped his arm around the boy's waist, like he did for George when he was upset, and he heard a soft whimper leave the boy wonders throat. It was quiet enough that no one else in the room heard it, besides Fred and George. The other boy wrapped his arm around his neck and started running his hand through the messy hair of the boy who lived. Inwardly, they were seething. How dare the toad hurt the boy like that! She would be in for it soon enough. That was the only thing keeping them from hexing her, the fact that they knew that Harry would get his revenge.

_Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped._

_"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"_

_Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily._

Even after all of this time, everyone who knew James or Lily bowed their heads in remembrance. Professor Sprout was sniffling and her eyes were red rimmed. At that moment, all of the professors cursed the evil toad lady for making them relive this pain.

_Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."_

_Dumbledore nodded glumly._

_"__It's — it's__true__?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy?__It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"_

_"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."_

"Someday, you will tell me the truth, Professor. Someday soon. Preferably before it's too late."

_Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge._

_It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"_

_"__Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me__why__you're here, of all places?"_

_"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."_

_"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?"_

Harry sent a small, but grateful smile at his head of house, at least she had tried.

_cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four._

_"Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"_

"Hmm… well, what do you know, at fourteen, he's still at the same mentality that he was at when he was almost two." Harry said with a small frown and a shrug of his shoulders, snuggling slightly into the embrace of the two red heads.

_"It's the best place for him," _

Harry snorted. "The only place, sure, but the safest? What have you been smoking?" he asked. The muggleborn's and some of the half-bloods smirked. The purebloods on the other hand were as confused as they were when they heard the word Drills.

_said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."_

"A letter?" the red heads almost screamed in outrage. Was the great wizard stupid or something? Had all the fights with Voldemort finally gotten rid of whatever brain cells he had?

"That would imply that the Dursleys can read." Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

_"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future-_

Harry stiffened in the arms of the twins.

"There isn't, right?" he asked, his voice sounding like a squeak.

"Not yet anyways. But if you beat you-know-who…" Fred's voice trailed off and he raised his eyebrows.

_there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!"_

"Which is really creepy by the way." Harry added.

_"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember!_

"Sorry to interrupt Professor, but Professor Dumbledore just lied. I _can_ remember that night, as you will find out soon enough."

_Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"_

_Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it._

Harry shuddered. He hoped not.

_"Hagrid's bringing him."_

_"You think it —wise — to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"_

"No offense of course Hagrid." She said quickly. Hagrid just gave her a smile, telling her that all was forgiven.

_"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore._

"So would we" said all of the Gryffindors loyally. Harry snickered. So had he. Until he sent them into the giant spiders. Then Harry felt slightly different about the giant.

_"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"_

_A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them._

_If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it._

_He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so__wild__— long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets._

_"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"_

_"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."_

Harry gave a slightly pained smile at that, Sirius was still mad at him after their huge fight months ago.

_"No problems, were there?"_

_"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."_

Fred and George 'aww'ed and the rest of the room snickered at the slight blush on the said boys face.

_Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep._

_Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning._

Harry reached up and tried to smooth his hair down over his scar, but it didn't work. It never worked.

_"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall._

_"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."_

_"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"_

_"Even if I could, I wouldn't._

Harry scowled and the twins gently pulled the boy closer to them, before George started rubbing his neck again. Harry couldn't help but relax into the embrace.

_Scars can come in handy._

"Ya," Harry said loudly, his voice full of venom and sarcasm, "completely handy."

_I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground._

The great hall shuddered in unison. Creepy, and totally unwanted information.

_Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."_

_Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house._

_"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog._

_"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"_

"Wait." Said Annie Martins, a Ravenclaw second year, "Excuse me Professor, but if the sound of a flying motorbike didn't wake the muggles, why would the sound of Hagrid crying wake them?"

Professor McGonagall blushed lightly. The true reason for the words that night were not what most seemed to understand.

_"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"_

_"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two._

_For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out._

"Finally." Severus muttered under his breath. He had been waiting to see that old coot without that damned twinkle for many years now.

Harry on the other hand shuddered, the only time he had seen him without that look in his eye was that night with Barty Crouch Jr.

_"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."_

_"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."_

_Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night._

_"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply._

_Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four._

_"Good luck, Harry," he murmured._

"Not enough good luck apparently…" Harry whispered to himself as his mind was forced back in time to when he still lived full time with his relatives.

_He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone._

_A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles,_

Harry shuddered. He hated that scream.

_nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…_

Nothing had changed there for the boy, no matter how much he had wished it had.

_He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!"_

The great hall was silent for almost a whole minute, before they heard the savior say something that they had never heard before.

"A doorstep!" he hissed as his eyes darkened to their usual fiery green, "You left me on a doorstep, in November, before they had even started gathering the death eaters? Are you really that stupid?" He asked his voice disbelieving. "You just sentenced me to ten years of hell, and for what? So I wouldn't get a big head? That's the stupidest reason I've ever heard!" He couldn't help it, his tight control on his magic started slipping, and everything, from the plates to the benches, started shaking. He tore himself away from the twins and fought with himself for his control.

Random people from all around the room stood up as one and started chanting under their breaths. Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Greg Goyle, and Vince Crabbe all stood from the Slytherin table. From Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood stood alone. From Hufflepuff, Zach Smith was standing with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were standing. And from Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom, the Creevey brothers, and the Weasley twins gathered around their friend.

As expected, Harry reigned in his magic, thankfully stopping the shaking, and gave his friends a sheepish look. They all moved over to the back corner of the Great Hall, and Neville whispered something to Harry, who immediately nodded, waving his hand so that the fifteen young adults had a comfortable place to sit. Harry sat on a dark blue, almost black, four seater, with Draco Malfoy on one side, and the Weasley Twins on the other.

On the Ice Prince's side was Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Greg Goyle, and the Creevey brothers. The rest were spread out on the twins side. The Great Hall watched in stunned silence, as they watched the teens happily conversing.

"What do you think your doing? Those are Slytherin's!" Hermione Granger shouted, being the first to process what they were seeing.

The Twins snorted and the rest of the teens rolled their eyes.

"We're certainly not a club, if that's what you're asking. We're just a group of friends, who have a common person that they see as a leader. Harry needed help, and you obviously weren't doing a good job, so we took over." Neville replied with a shrug.

"But… but their bloody snakes!" Ron shouted, his famous Weasley temper was showing, and Harry flinched lightly, before cursing colorfully. He had forgotten about that. When the twins gave Harry a look, he knew he would have no choice in the matter. His friends would be having a long conversation later on that was guaranteed to not be pleasant for the shortest member.

"Hem hem. Who would like to read next?" Professor Umbridge asked, her voice sickeningly sweet. Severus sighed, but accepted the book from his, stupid, coworker.

He cleared his throat, and mentally read the title, before turning to Potter and raising his eyebrow in question. The said boy blushed, and tried to shrug it off.

"Chapter two…"


End file.
